Mary is out on the doggy deck, facing the street, barking at every single dog who strolls by with his person. Cosmo expresses her annoyance by calling Mary to come inside. Mary would come inside if she could, but Kaylee is guarding the doggy door, and she scares Mary with a big “WOOF!” every time Mary tries to enter.

So Mary gets stuck outside.

Such is our household politics.

I wonder what these animals think of each other, and of me. Let’s do a psychological profile on each.

Mary: If Mary were a human, she’d have a safety deposit box where she’d keep all of her dog biscuits and rawhide chews. Or rather, that’s where she’d keep her money, if she were a human. But she’s not a human, and she doesn’t have a safe place for her treasures. So she collects them into a little pile and guards them all day, barking fiercely when either Kaylee or Cosmo approaches. She may have one gooey rawhide and three dog biscuits, one of which she’s stolen from Kaylee, that require her protection. On occasion she’s taken two dog biscuits with her when she goes outside to do her business, so that Kaylee won’t get them in her absence.

Kaylee: If Kaylee were a human, she would eat anything she could find, whether it belonged to her or to someone else. She wouldn’t need a safety deposit box, because she’d have nothing to put in it. She wants whatever I give her and whatever Mary has saved. Since she is finally alpha dog, having risen through the ranks as her predecessors departed, she keeps Mary in line by scaring her. But she is getting old, so most of the time she dozes near Cosmo and me.

Cosmo: If Cosmo were a human, she’d probably be like me. She already has my voice and my chuckle. She eats my food. She likes my company. She likes dogs and squirrels and other birds. She likes to go in a car. She likes to make people laugh. But she bites. I don’t.

Cosmo chases Kaylee and talks to Mary, but she hangs out mainly with me.

If these animals have distinctive personalities, so do all the feathery, furry and hairy residents of Earth. We simply happen to know Cosmo, Kaylee, and Mary. We don’t know their outdoor kin.

Imagine the community politics of our non-human neighbors. Living together in the woods behind my house are turtles, frogs, squirrels, flying squirrels, chipmunks, voles, mice, possums, raccoons, armadillos, foxes and deer, as well as all kinds of birds, including owls, crows, red-tail hawks and turkey vultures, and multitudes of creeping, crawling and flying bugs. Occasionally, a coyote wanders through. The population is as diverse as New York City, with an equally wide range of views about good and evil.

My friends Guillermo and Eliot told me a story about an owl capturing a squirrel behind their house. As the owl began to consume his victim, the other squirrels in the vicinity raised a ruckus that echoed throughout the woods. What must these squirrels have thought as they combined their efforts to distract the evil predator from eating their relative? They must have felt sorrow when they failed to save her.

The owl must have felt joy when he satisfied his hunger.

After a while, the squirrels calmed down and went their separate ways, looking for nuts, chasing each other up and down the trees and figuring out how to extract bird seed from the squirrel-proof container that the humans in the big house had erected.

The squirrels probably know each other well. They know who is female and who is male, who is most aggressive and who is cleverest at stealing bird seed. They know whom they want to mate. They recognize each other by sight. They have their favorites.

The squirrels also know which birds will hurt them and which ones won’t. They may know where the raccoons live. They certainly know where the humans live. They know how to live in the woods, and they know who else lives there.

What do they think about when the coyote enters their territory? What do they think about, period?

Over spring break I dog-sat Lola, a Chihuahua mix, and Oscar, a Pekingese, while Eliot and Guillermo and their parents took a vacation. Lola and Oscar’s arrival expanded my household to four dogs, Cosmo, and me. Each of the dogs must have had thoughts about each other, about Cosmo, about me, and about their new political situation.

Lola and Oscar, living in territory new to them, must have wondered: Who will be nice? Will she feed us? Should we stay away from the smaller white furry dog, who growls every time we get close to her doggy biscuit? What’s a bird doing inside the house?

Cosmo seemed happy with her new companions. She learned to bark like them, and with them.

• Betty Jean Craige is professor emerita of comparative literature at the University of Georgia and the author of many books, including “Conversations with Cosmo: At Home with an African Grey Parrot” (2010). Her email is bettyjean@cosmotalks.com. Cosmo’s website is www.cosmotalks.com.